Q> 


G~T> 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SERIES  No.  2. 


’TO’ 

4 


July,  1845. 


Oct.  9,  1877. 


Y  WOOD  NEWHA 


Lii-j 


WOMAN'S  BAPTIST  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY, 


OF  THE  WEST. 


“  They  have  but  left  our  weary  ways 
Tc  live  in  memory  here,  in  heaven  by  love  and  praise.’ 


CHICAGO  : 

Ja*ies  Guilbert,  Printer. 
1880. 


PJt>A 


.&alB 


vrsT 


VT6T 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SERIES  No.  2. 


July,  1845. 


Oct.  9,  1877. 


WOMAN'S  BAPTIST  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY, 

OF  THE  WEST. 


44  They  have  but  left  our  weary  ways 
To  live  in  memory  here,  in  heaven  by  love  and  praise.” 


CHICAGO: 

James  Guilbert,  Printer. 

1880. 


MRS,  MARY  WOOD  NEWHALL, 


The  Society  of  the  West  is  interested  in  keeping  green  the 
lovely  memories  of  the  beautiful  women  it  has  sent  to  foreign 
lands,  and  counts  it  one  of  life’s  sweetest  pleasures,  as  it  is  one 
of  life’s  highest  duties,  to  perpetuate  ennobling  influences,  and 
to  so  embalm  graces  having  their  source  in  Divine  inspiration 
and  guidance,  that  for  other  generations,  “  they  may  still  smell 
sweet,  and  blossom  in  the  dust.’’ 

Nothing  appeals  to  us  more  powerfully  than  narratives  re¬ 
vealing  the  possibilities  for  devotedness  and  magnanimous  self- 
denial  which  woman  possesses.  Instances  of  such  devotion 
and  self-denial,  may  be  found  in  innumerable  homes.  If  these 
qualities  could  set  themselves  to  music,  and  sing  themselves  a 
place  in  human  hearts,  the  world  would  be  filled  with  divine 
melody.  The  very  harmonies  of  heaven  are  based  upon  such 
sacrifices,  and  every  record  of  them  on  earth,  is  adjusted  to 
those  harmonies.  The  laying  down  of  life  for  the  good  of 
others,  is  the  key-note  and  the  chording  of  earthly  lives  to  the 
Divine  example, — a  grand  symphony  which  fills  both  earth 
and  heaven.  Such  an  example  speaks  to  us  in  ringing  tones, 
not  so  much  rebuking  our  wrong  by  its  right,  as  inciting  us 
to  emulative  effort  by  its  illustrious  example  of  devotion  to 
principle. 

It  has  been  finely  said,  that  we  do  not  see  God  as  clearly 


4 


now  as  our  fathers  saw  Him. — that  the  smoke  of  modern 
civilization  dims  our  eyes.  That  a  religious  and  philanthropic 
work  is  not  wrought  with  as  much  single-mindedness  and  dis¬ 
position  to  sacrifice,  now  as  then.  Except,  perhaps,  for  the 
scourge  of  climate,  men  and  women  do  not  need  to  take  their 
lives  in  their  hands  now  as  they  did  a  generation  since.  Pal¬ 
ace  doors  have  been  opened — Chinese  walls  have  been  broken 
down.  Treaties  have  been  made  for  national  and  commercial 
interests  under  which  the  missionary  finds  protection.  His 
work  finds  appreciation,  and  voices  from  all  lands  ring  out 
the  Macedonian  cry. 

Pioneers  in  any  work  undertake  a  heavier  burden  than  those 
who  follow  need  to  bear,  as  these  walk  often  in  foot-prints 
made  by  those  first  weary  feet. 

But  the  path  is  rough  enough  yet,  though  the  road  has  been 
1  blazed,’  and  a  shelter,  it  may  be,  awaits  the  Missionary.  He 
passes  graves  in  mid-ocean  and  under  Hopia  trees,  where 
some  are  resting  from  labor  which  was  only  seed-sowing — 
but  not  the  less  replete  with  sacrifice. 

To  such  an  ending  of  life  and  its  noblest  purpose,  went 
Mary  Wood.  The  smoke  of  civilization  did  not  hide  from 
her  God’s  command  that  a  knowledge  of  His  grace,  the  illu¬ 
mination  of  His  love,  should  be  carried  to  those  who  knowing 
it  not,  sit  in  the  blackness  of  heathen  ignorance  and  degrada¬ 
tion.  Neither  did  the  smoke  of  sacrifice  hide  from  her  the 
blessedness  of  such  as  bring  souls  to  salvation.  She  was  born 
in  Bridgewater,  Somersetshire,  England,  but  when  a  mere 
child  removed  with  her  parents  and  one  brother  to  America, 
making  a  home  in  Belvidere,  Ill. 

In  the  Belvidere  graded  schools,  she  made  good  educational 


5 


progress,  winning  commendations  from  her  teachers,  and  sin¬ 
cere  regard  from  her  associates.  Here  she  made  a  Christian 
profession,  and  with  her  parents  and  others,  in  1866,  entered 
into  the  organization  of  the  South  Belvidere  Baptist  Church. 

She  was  already  a  pupil  in  the  Rockford  Female  Seminary, 
where  she  graduated  in  1867.  Even  then  began  her  longing 
for  mission  work,  and  looking  to  India  as  her  future  home 
and  scene  of  labor.  Her  delicate  health  led  her  father  to  op¬ 
pose  her  wishes.  She  yielded  to  him  through  this  considera¬ 
tion,  but  her  health  improving  and  her  desire  remaining  un¬ 
changed  she  made  application  to  Dr.  Roe,  her  pastor,  for  an 
appointment  to  labor  among  the  Freedmen  of  the  South. 
This,  too,  met  with  discouragement,  on  account  of  climate 
and  delicate  health. 

She  then  engaged  in  teaching,  and  spent  three  years  in 
Sycamore  in  that  work,  and  afterward  at  Rockford.  A  noble 
testimony  is  borne  to  her  success  as  a  teacher  and  to  the  affec¬ 
tion  her  pupils  felt  for  her.  Her  characteristics  in  this  work 
were  conscientiousness  and  thoroughness.  Persevering:  and 
unassuming,  she  also  accomplished  much  earnest  work  for  the 
Master  through  the  medium  of  her  pen.  Such  was  her  de¬ 
votion  to  her  work  that  she  was  always  over-taxing  her  en¬ 
ergies.  One  of  her  pupils  writes:  “During  the  long  winter 
evenings  which  we  often  spent  together,  it  was  my  privilege 
to  witness  many  indications  of  the  peculiar  loveliness  and  re¬ 
finement  of  her  character.  She  possessed  fine  literary  tastes, 
and  the  thorough  cultivation  and  the  beauty  of  her  mind  were 
apparent  to  all.  In  her  school  discipline  she  kept  the  ma¬ 
chinery  of  government  out  of  sight,  but  the  most  wayward 
were  subdued  by  her  unvarying  gentleness,  her  earnest  per- 


6 


suasions  and  sometimes  by  her  tears.  Her  work  as  a  teacher 
was  always  done  prayerfully,  quietly,  and  subject  to  the  Mas¬ 
ter’s  approval.” 

An  incident  is  related  by  a  friend,  showing  her  rare  econ¬ 
omy  of  time  and  her  thirst  for  knowledge.  She  had  returned 
from  Minnesota  very  ill,  and  was  even  unable  to  sit  up  in  bed. 
This  friend  says:  “  I  went  in  to  read  to  her,  taking  a  maga¬ 
zine — most  persons  in  similar  circumstances  would  have  only 
cared  to  be  amused.  She  selected  an  article  entitled  c  Ocean 
Currents.’  Before  I  had  read  a  dozen  lines  she  stopped  me 
— there  was  something  she  did  not  understand;  did  I  know 
about  it?  If  not,  she  thought  a  certain  book  would  explain, 
and  her  mother  and  I  were  set  to  searching  books  and  maps 
till  the  matter  was  made  clear.” 

She  is  described  as  personally  very  attractive,  having  large, 
soft  blue  eyes,  rich  dark  brown  hair,  regular  and  noble  fea¬ 
tures,  and  a  dignified,  almost  majestic,  presence.  At  last,  in 
the  spring  of  1874,  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Society  of 
the  West,  held  in  Chicago,  her  purpose  was  fixed,  and  on  the 
7th  of  July  she  offered  herself  to  the  Board,  and  was  accepted 
and  recommended  to  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  Mis¬ 
sionary  Union  for  appointment.  Strong  in  her  attachments, few 
could  more  truly  appreciate  the  blessings  of  home  and  the  re¬ 
finements  of  social  life.  She  was  an  only  and  tenderly-be- 
loved  daughter,  and  to  witness  the  grief  of  her  parents  was 
even  a  greater  grief  than  she  suffered  in  parting  with  them. 
But  it  had  always  been  her  habit  to  do  with  her  might  what¬ 
ever  her  hand  found  to  do,  and  when  once  convinced  of  duty 
it  was  impossible  to  turn  her  from  its  requirements.  As  the 
time  of  her  departure  drew  near  she  attended  farewell  ser- 


7 


vices  in  Rockford,  Milwaukee,  Belvidere  and  Chicago,  and 
met  the  Board  in  Boston.  Her  father  accompanied  her  to 
Chicago,  intending  to  part  from  her  there.  But  he  could  not 
leave  this  dear,  only  daughter  while  he  could  still  be  with 
her.  He  went  East,  and  only  parted  with  her  on  ship¬ 
board. 

Miss  Wood  sailed  in  the  steamship  “  Bolivia,”  September 
19th,  in  company  with  the  wife  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Mason  and 
other  missionaries.  She  landed  at  Glasgow  and  went  to  the 
South  of  England,  where  she  visited  relatives.  She  sailed 
from  Liverpool,  arriving  at  Madras,  via.  Calcutta,  December 
25th,  and  at  Nellore  by  land,  January  2,  1875.  She  immedi¬ 
ately  began  the  study  of  the  Telugu  language. 

Her  journal  is  exceedingly  interesting,  and  her  letters  to  her 
parents  and  friends  with  full  accounts  of  life  on  shipboard  and 
incidents  of  travel  are  admirable.  Her  first  sight  of  India, 
with  some  description  of  the  country  and  people,  and  the  pe¬ 
culiarities  of  all,  are  more  briefly  narrated  in  the  two  follow¬ 
ing  letters  to  the  Board,  written  soon  after  her  arrival  at 
Nellore : 

“  Sitting  in  my  Indian  home  with  oceans  rolling  between  us,  it  is  time 
I  acquainted  you  with  my  voyage  from  England  to  India,  and  with  my 
present  situation.  At  9  o’clock  a.  m.,  Nov.  5th,  the  City  of  Manchester 
loosed  from  her  fastenings  at  Birkenhead  Docks,  and  once  more  I  was 
adrift  upon  the  doubtful  world  of  waters.  Owing  partly  to  a  fog  which 
spread  around  us,  we  soon  lost  sight  of  land ;  and  for  five  days  nothing 
broke  the  monotony  of  the  voyage  save  the  different  degrees  of  sea-sick¬ 
ness  which  visited  us,  the  passing  of  a  sail  along  the  horizon,  the  flying 
over  us  of  a  sea  bird,  or  a  fish  lifting  its  head  above  the  waters.  At  sea, 
the  most  trifling  incident  becomes  a  fruitful  theme  of  speculation. 

Nov.  10th  we  were  all  day  on  the  alert.  At  sunrise,  land  was  near, 
the  southwest  points  of  the  coast  of  Spain;  a  high,  diversified,  rock- 


8 


bound  shore,  mostly  sterile,  though  in  some  spots  vegetation  appeared. 
About  noon  the  very  old  town  of  Tariffa  came  clearly  in  view  and  form¬ 
ed  an  interesting  sight  with  its  quaint  stone  houses,  fortress  and  bar¬ 
racks.  It  stands  on  a  projecting  point.  A  little  more  sailing,  watching 
the  bright  aerial  tints  of  the  distant  mountains,  and  then  Gibralter  drew 
near.  First  came  the  Bay,  containing  a  large  amount  of  shipping.  On 
its  eastern  side  is  the  town,  between  which,  and  four  large  English  men- 
of-war,  prowling  like  giants  along  the  coast,  we  passed.  The  famous  old 
stronghold,  the  fortress  itself,  stands  on  a  high  promontory,  and  towering 
above  and  behind  it,  is  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar.  Its  summit  rises  1,200 
feet,  and  although  the  day  was  of  sunny  clearness,  it  was  cloud-wrapped 
and  hidden  from  view.  We  could  see  some  of  the  separate  buildings 
distinctly,  yet,  from  our  stand-point,  the  greater  part  seemed  like  a  natural 
stone  wall  rising  from  the  sea,  and  pierced  by  an  immense  number  of 
holes.  Behind  each  of  these,  is  the  mouth  of  a  large  cannon.  The  artil¬ 
lery  houses  are  filled  with  ammunition,  and  in  the  store  houses  ten 
year’s  provisions  are  said  to  be  kept;  that  nothing,  either  storm  or  siege 
may  wrest  Gibralter  from  English  power. 

We  passed  Malta  and  its  surrounding  islands,  in  one  of  the  furious 
white  squalls  of  the  Mediterranean;  and  although  we  both  before  and  af¬ 
ter  crossed  the  path  of  stronger  winds,  I  never  saw  the  sea  lashed  into 
such  roaring  caverns,  or  rise  in  such  foam-capped  columns.  The  surging 
mountains  broke  all  day  over  our  deck,  and  drove  the  great  ship,  as  if 
she  were  a  plaything,  from  crested  summit  to  wave- walled  chasm. 

The  morning  of  the  iSth,  we  anchored  before  Port  Said,  the  entrance 
ol  the  Suez  Canal.  A  dozen  row  boats,  manned  by  wild  gesticulating 
Arabs,  soon  surrounded  the  steamer.  Each  clamored  for  us  to  take  his 
boat,  which,  with  the  instant  danger  of  their  running  upon  each  other, 
and  so  giving  us  all  a  sea-bath,  for  which  we  did  not  pay,  made  the  get¬ 
ting  on  shore  an  exciting  scene.  The  town  is  built  on  a  low  sand  plain 
with  nothing  attractive  about  it.  The  inhabitants  are  a  strange  mixture 
of  Arabs,  French,  and  Egyptians;  and  we  passed  Turkish  women  with 
brass  bar  cylinders  (worn  on  the  forehead)  between  the  eyes,  covered 
with  cloth  over  their  faces,  leaving  only  the  eyes  visible.  The  canal  is 
narrow,  and  as  all  passing  of  steamers  must  be  done  at  certain  fastening 


9 


stations  where  the  width  is  sufficient,  many  delays  are  caused.  In  the 
process  of  unfastening  at  one  of  these  places,  a  rope  got  twisted  many 
times  about  our  screw,  so  that  the  captain  was  forced  to  send  to  Suez 
for  divers  to  cut  it  away.  Altogether  we  were  six  days  and  five  nights 
in  getting  through  the  canal,  a  distance  of  eighty  miles.  The  weather 
while  we  were  on  the  Red  Sea  was  very  hot  and  sultry;  for.  two  days  not 
even  a  breeze.  The  nights  in  the  Arabian  Sea  were  illumined  by  the 
wonderful  phenomenon  of  glaring  phosphorescence ;  every  movement  of 
the  ship  caused  the  waters  to  burst  into  brightness.  The  myriad  jelly 
fish  looked  like  balls  of  fire;  and  the  numberless  minute  living  forms 
which  sport  in  the  deep,  gave  to  it  in  the  darkness,  a  look  of  liquid  silver. 
From  Suez  to  Calcutta,  I  suffered  greatly  from  a  form  of  sea-sickness 
affecting  my  head ;  and  the  succession  of  storms  which  attended  us  from 
Aden,  did  not  alleviate  it.  But  for  the  companionable  passengers,  and 
the  obliging  officers,  I  should  have  had  a  weary  time  of  it. 

At  noon,  on  Friday,  the  nth  of  December,  we  signaled  the  pilot 
barge,  and  took  on  a  pilot;  from  that  time,  till  we  reached  Calcutta,  all 
was  feverish  excitement.  At  sunset  we  anchored  off  Sand  Heads ;  for 
the  river  is  too  difficult  of  navigation  to  allow  even  an  experienced  pilot 
to  travel  by  night.  The  Hoogly  opens  so  wide  and  the  surrounding 
country  is  so  level,  that  we  had  ascended  it  twenty  miles  before  land 
was  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  When  the  shores  came  near,  trees  filled 
with  foliage,  bananas,  palm,  cocoanuts,  etc.,  with  tropical  birds  flitting 
among  the  leaves,  green  grass,  with  stacks  of  hay  or  grain,  the  first  of 
the  late  harvest — all  made  a  beautiful,  but  rather  a  singular  scene  for 
the  twelfth  of  December.  We  passed  many  native  Bengalee  villages, 
any  of  which  at  a  little  distance  would  be  mistaken  for  a  number  of 
brown,  old  haystacks.  At  6  o’clock,  we  reached  Garden  Reach,  three 
miles  from  Calcutta,  and  anchored  near  the  shore.  As  our  arrival  had 
been  telegraphed,  the  friends  of  our  passengers  were  waiting  on  the 
bank,  and  putting  out  in  boats,  were  seen  clambering  up  the  steps.  What 
embracings!  What  eager  questionings !  What  glad  re-unions!  Though 
my  heart  ached  that  I  had  never  a  friend  in  all  this  strange  land  to  give 
me  welcome,  I  could  but  rejoice  in  the  joy  of  others.  The  confusion  and 
bustle  of  our  deck,  was  indescribable  ;  one  by  one  my  companions  of 


IO 


thirty-eight  days  came  to  say  “Good-bye;”  each  wished  me  a  pleasant 
home,  success  for  the  future,  and  many  years  of  health  to  do  in  India 
the  work  I  had  chosen.  And  this  was  said  with  sincerity,  though  few 
were  Christians.  When  the  darkness  began  to  thicken,  a  gentleman 
came  and  introduced  himself  as  the  Agent  of  our  Society,  saying  his 
boat  was  waiting  for  us.  And  so  pushing  our  way  through  a  crowd  of 
iostling  coolie-boats,  we  gained  the  shore,  and  seated  in  a  flat  chair  with 
an  arm  around  the  neck  of  each  of  my  coolie-bearers,  I  was  carried  up 
unto  the  dry  land  of  India.  The  coolies  are  the  laborers  of  the  country. 
They  have  dark,  oily  skins,  and  like  the  other  Hindoos,  have  slender 
bodies  with  delicate  hands  and  feet.  Their  features  resemble  our  own; 
hair  black  and  generally  straight;  and  their  clothing  consists  of  a  large 
turban,  and  a  piece  of  cloth  wrapped  about  the  middle  of  the  body. 

We  remained  four  days  in  Calcutta.  It  is  an  attractive  place.  Here, 
as  elsewhere  in  India,  all  the  English  we  meet,  are  people  of  wealth  and 
position,  who  live  comfortably  and  the  most  part  luxuriously.  The  ori¬ 
ental  columns  and  verandas,  added  to  the  more  substantial  style  of  west¬ 
ern  architecture,  give  to  the  residences  a  palatial  air  which  has  earned  for 
Calcutta  the  name  City  of  Palaces.  The  native  portion  of  the  town  is 
populous,  crowded  and  dirty,  the  houses  low  and  mean,  the  huts  disgust¬ 
ing  hovels  of  one  little  room,  which  answers  all  purposes  of  a  family  of 
ten  to  twenty.  I  saw  sights  when  riding  by  them,  which  made  my 
woman’s  heart  sick  and  faint.  The  wretchedness,  the  moral  pollution 
of  heathen  India,  is  something  which  cannot  be  told. 

Our  visit  to  the  Botanical  Gardens,  and  the  famous  Banyan  tree,  whose 
branches  shade  a  space  of  75  feet  in  circumference  was  intensely  inter¬ 
esting.  When  I  saw  all  varieties  of  tropical  productions  basking  in 
out-of-door  beds,  drinking  rich  life  from  the  air  and  sun  of  their  native 
clime,  I  pitied  the  poor  exotics  of  America,  shut  in  by  thick  walls  and 
double  windows,  and  warmed  by  coal  stoves. 

By  the  kindness  of  Miss  Lathrop,  of  the  American  Mission  Home,  I 
visited  a  high  caste  native  Zenana,  and  through  her  talked  with  its  in¬ 
mates.  A  description  of  this  would  make  a  letter  of  itself,  so  I  must 
omit  it  and  all  else  that  we  saw  in  Calcutta  and  bring  this  long  letter  to  a 
close.  I  hope  soon  to  write  you  again,  giving  a  description  of  Nellore,  its 


surroundings  and  the  peculiar  ways  of  its  inhabitants.  The  heat  shuts  us 
up  so  much  of  the  day  that  it  takes  some  time  to  learn  the  customs  and 
superstitions  of  the  people.  The  heat  is  now  growing  intense,  gaining 
each  day.  It  is  now  8:30  p.  m.,  and  by  the  open  window  my  thermome¬ 
ter  stands  at  88  deg.  in  the  shade  of  the  veranda.  This  afternoon  it  was 
100  deg. 

A  week’s  sailing  in  a  coast  steamer  brought  us  to  Madras,  and  on 
Christmas  morning  we  anchored  half  a  mile  from  the  city.  This  is  the 
nearest  ships  can  come,  for  the  surf  never  ceases  to  beat  along  this 
coast,  and  its  force  is  tremendous.  As  we  rowed  ashore  with  the  scorch¬ 
ing  sun  beating  upon  us  I  could  but  think  of  the  happy  home  gatherings 
and  merry  Christmas  greetings.  But  I  knew  that  I  was  remembered  by 
many  a  loved  one,  and  that  gave  me  happiness.  Better  still,  that  the 
Great  Giver  of  every  blessing  held  me  in  His  protecting  arms,  would 
lead  me  through  all  dangers,  and  be  my  solace  and  joy  amid  every  pri¬ 
vation. 

The  letter  containing  the  promised  description  of  Nellore 
not  being  at  hand  we  give  one  written  later: 

Nellore. 

As  I  was  writing  last  night  I  heard  the  sound  of  distant  music,  ac¬ 
companied  by  the  din  of  many  voices  and  the  tramping  of  many  feet. 
This  told  me  that  an  idol  procession  was  coming.  Being  anxious  to  get 
near  enough  to  see  it,  I  went  over  to  Canakiah’s  to  have  some  one  go 
with  me  to  the  Compound  gate.  I  found  them  about  commencing  fam¬ 
ily  worship,  and  I  took  my  seat  by  the  door.  Seated  on  the  floor  in  the 
middle  of  the  room  was  Canakiah  with  his  Bible  and  a  small  oil  lamp. 
At  his  right  sat  Julia  his  wife,  and  at  his  left,  James,  the  future  husband 
of  Eliza,  the  oldest  daughter.  Four  children  were  seated  around  in  the 
room.  In  the  next  room  were  the  nine  boarding-school  girls,  who  live 
in  the  family,  and  the  remaining  children — ten  in  all.  They  were  all 
seated  on  mats  on  the  floor.  First  a  hymn  (translation  of  “Just  as  I 
Am”)  was  sung,  then  a  chapter  read,  followed  by  prayer. 

Of  course  it  was  all  in  Telugu  and  entirely  unintelligible  to  me.  But 
the  influence  was  not  Telugu;  it  was  the  language  which  to  every  re¬ 
newed  heart  speaks  of  love  and  faith  in  Jesus.  It  entered  my  sou  1, 


12 


soothed  its  anxieties,  dispelled  its  loneliness,  and  filled  me  with  the  peace 
which  passeth  all  understanding. 

Meanwhile  the  idol  had  been  stopping  along  the  road  to  receive  gifts. 
It  is  the  practice  to  rest  opposite  ^’e  very  house  where  presents  are  re¬ 
ceived.  So,  after  worship,  I  asked  Canakiah  and  James  all  sorts  of  ques¬ 
tions  about  heathen  festivals  and  the  ceremonies  connected  with  idol 
worship.  As  Jameslis  a  converted  Brahmin,  I  received  much  informa¬ 
tion  from  him.  At  last  the  procession  drew  near  and  we  went  to  the 
gate  to  get  a  view.  What  did  I  see?  A  great  many  men,  women  and 
children.  Four  musicians,  playing  upon  instruments,  were  walking 
ahead.  Next  came  two  men  bearing  the  idol,  which  was  gorgeously 
decked  and  covered  with  a  canopy  very  much  ornamented.  It  was  the 
most  respectable-looking  idol  I  have  yet  seen.  But  this  is  one  of  the 
principal  deities  and  was  making  its  annual  visit  to  the  Nellore  gods. 
On  account  of  the  heat  of  the  day,  the  nights  are  given  to  the  festivities, 
music  and  dancing,  religious  feasts,  marriages,  &c.,  making  them  so 
noisy  that  it  is  difficult  to  sleep.  A  number  of  dancing  girls  are  kept 
constantly  in  attendance  upon  this  particular  god.  On  this  occasion 
their  bodies  were  covered  with  jewelry,  the  tinkling  of  which  could  be 
heard  at  a  great  distance. 

I  have  made  a  visit  to  the  Pahlum  which  lies  west  of  the  Mission 
Compound.  I  accompanied  Julia,  of  whom  I  have  so  often  spoken. 
She  is  by  far  the  most  efficient  Christian  woman  that  we  have.  She  was 
trained  in  Mrs.  Jewett’s  girl’s  school,  and  afterwards  became  a  teacher  in 
the  same.  For  eighteen  years  she  has  been  the  wife  of  the  native  Evan¬ 
gelist  Canakiah.  Although  she  has  brought  up  a  large  family  of  child¬ 
ren  she  has  during  the  whole  time  been  a  kind  of  matron  over  the  girl’s 
school  in  the  Compound;  made  visits  with  and  without  the  missionary 
to  the  surrounding  villages  and  schools,  and  has  frequently  gone,  as  we 
did  this  evening,  into  the  neighboring  Pahlum  to  talk  with  the  women 
and  children,  trying  to  induce  the  children  to  attend  school  and  the  pa¬ 
rents  to  come  to  the  chapel  and  hear  about  the  true  God.  When  the  sun 
was  half  below  the  horizon,  Julia,  whose  home  is  but  a  few  yards  from 
the  Bungalow,  sent  word  that  it  was  time  to  go,  and  soon  came  out  to 
meet  me.  Her  dress  was  a  sample  of  the  nicest  of  the  Christian  women. 


It  consisted  of  a  skirt  of  print,  a  plaid  underwaist  of  white  cloth,  high 
neck,  but  short  sleeves,  then  wound  around  the  body,  as  none  but  an 
Oriental  can  do,  was  the  principal  garment — a  cloth  from  S  to  n  yards 
long.  Hers  was  of  dotted  muslin.  They  are  oftener  of  plain  white 
cloth.  The  heathen  women  wear  only  this  cloth  and  nothing  upon  the 
head,  unless  they  draw  a  part  of  this  quaukah  over  the  head,  as  Julia  did 
this  evening. 

The  Pahlum,  which  is  occupied  entirely  by  natives,  has  but  the  rudest 
specimens  of  houses,  crowded  together  in  the  closest  proximity,  or  sep. 
arated  by  waste  spots  which  the  late  flood  has  washed  into  deep  holes. 
There  is  no  pretense  of  streets,  but  the  houses  are  scattered  like  autumn 
leaves  on  the  ground.  As  our  visit  was  at  sunset,  the  hour  at  which 
the  Hindoos  prepare  and  eat  their  principal  meal,  the  women  and  child¬ 
ren  were  gathered  around  the  fires,  sitting  in  the  dirt,  holding  or  watch¬ 
ing  the  pots  placed  on  the  coals.  Julia  talked  with  these  about  the 
true  God  and  sung  Christian  hymns  to  them.  Some  of  them  have  at 
different  times  been  to  the  Compound  and  heard  the  preaching;  and  in 
reply  to  Julia’s  question  as  to  why  they  do  not  continue  to  come  and  be¬ 
come  followers  of  the  Saviour,  they  give  every  conceivable  reply.  One 
wretched-looking  creature,  whose  quaukah  was  so  carelessly  thrown 
around  her  that  she  was  not  half  covered,  whose  hair  was  tangled  and 
her  whole  person  spoke  of  dirt  and  neglect,  said  her  pride  ivas  too  great. 
If  the  sights  around  me  had  not  been  so  painful,  I  should  have  felt  like 
laughing  at  the  incongruity  of  her  answer,  with  her  whole  appearance 
and  surroundings.  And  yet  it  is  too  true.  They  think  it  beneath  them 
to  become  Christians.  Julia  said  to  me  on  returning,  H  These  people 
once  had  plenty,  were  rich,  but  they  would  not  hear  the  good  words 
which  dear  father  Jewett  spoke  to  their  ears,  and  now  they  have  lost 
much.  I  tell  them  it  is  because  they  do  not  love  and  worship  the 
Saviour.”  None  of  the  people  in  this  Pahlum  belong  to  the  high  castes. 
Their  houses  are  of  two  kinds.  The  better  ones  have  wralls  made  from 
a  mixture  of  sand  and  mud,  with  thatched  roofs.  They  contain  often  a 
cot  to  sleep  on,  a  box  to  hold  changes  of  garments  and  a  bag  of  rice, 
materials  for  curry,  pots,  and  occasionally  the  native  furniture.  The 
second  kind  are  circular,  and  are  made  of  leaves  fastened  to  bamboo 


H 


•5*r 


limb6,  one  end  of  which  is  put  into  the  ground,  while  at  the  top  all  are 
brought  together  and  tied.  Here  I  saw  only  rice,  curry  materials,  pots 
and  pieces  of  matting. 

In  March,  1875,  she  went  to  Ramapatam,  and  here  she  was 
prostrated,  first  by  brain  fever  and  then  by  typhoid.  As  soon 
as  she  was  able  to  do  so  she  went  to  Madras  for  medical 
treatment,  taking  her  Telugu  teacher  with  her,  that  she  might 
lose  no  time  in  the  study  of  the  language.  As  soon  as  possi¬ 
ble  she  returned  to  Ramapatam,  entering  heart  and  soul  upon 
her  chosen  life-work.  In  a  letter  home  she  said,  writing  of 
her  illness:  “Under  God  my  life  has  been  spared  through 
Brother  Timpany’s  knowledge  of  medicine  and  faithful  ef¬ 
forts  night  and  day,  the  nearest  physician  being  at  Nellore, 
forty-five  miles  distant.”  It  was  a  great  trial  to  her  at  first 
that  there  was  so  much  uncertainty  as  to  what  her  work 
should  be.  When  Miss  Bronson’s  death  was  announced  her 
heart  had  responded  to  the  call  to  fill  her  vacant  place.  But 
Providence  seemed  to  indicate  that  her  work  was  not  in  As¬ 
sam.  Nellore  and  Ongole  had  also  been  under  consideration. 
Speaking  of  this,  and  that  no  sooner  had  she  made  up  her 
mind  in  one  direction  than  something  occurred  to  break  up  the 
plan,  she  says,  “  It  is  a  sore  trial  to  my  faith.  I  sometimes 
fear  that  I  have  made  a  mistake  in  coming  to  India,”  and  then 
she  adds: 

“  It  is  not  so,  but  so  it  looks, 

And  I  lose  courage  then, 

And  doubt  will  come,  if  God  hath  kept 
His  promises  to  men.” 

Then  come  words  of  faith,  bringing  a  hope,  a  ray  of  peace, 
that  is  not  born  of  sight,  but  comes  from  child-like  trust: 


*5 


“  Oh,  blest  is  he  to  whom  is  given 
The  instinct  which  can  tell 
That  God  is  most  upon  the  field 
When  most  invisible.” 

Ramapatam,  where  her  interest  was  now  to  center,  is  a 
small  native  town  in  the  Presidency  of  Madras,  situated  on 
the  seashore,  forty-five  miles  north  of  Nellore  and  thirty 
south  of  Ongole.  The  country  in  the  vicinity  is  low  and 
somewhat  rolling.  The  native  village  is  separated  from  the 
sea  by  only  a  small  grove  of  palmyra  and  cocoanut  palm  trees, 
and  a  small  salt  lake  or  back  water.  The  Mission  Compound 
adjoins  the  village  on  the  west  side  and  is  a  little  higher  than 
the  village  level.  In  the  centre  of  the  Compound  stand  the 
Mission  buildings.  These,  with  their  verandas,  are  some  300 
feet  long  and  40  wide.  In  the  northeast  corner  of  the  Com¬ 
pound  is  a  small  tank  or  reservoir,  surrounded  by  cocoanut, 
banyan,  and  other  fruit  and  shade  trees.  At  the  west  of  the 
tank  is  a  burial  ground  containing  dust  sacred  to  both  mis¬ 
sionaries  and  native  Christians.  A  row  of  trees  and  shrubs 
and  prickly  pear  borders  the  Compound  on  the  west. 
Around  the  bungalow,  chapel  and  school  buildings,  stand  a 
dozen  or  more  small  houses  for  the  accommodation  of  the  na¬ 
tive  preachers  and  other  helpers  in  mission  work.  Beside  the 
missionaries  there  are  no  other  white  residents  nearer  than 
Ongole. 

Months  passed  and  the  school  was  exceedinglv  prosperous. 
Miss  Peabody  went  to  Madras  to  study  medicine,  it  being  es¬ 
sential  that  some  one  should  have  such  knowledge  in  Rama¬ 
patam.  Miss  Wood,  now  assisted  by  Mr.  Newhall,  had  taken 
her  place.  She  writes :  “  It  is  a  Saturday  morning ;  after  re- 


1 


1 6 


citing  the  Bible  lesson  for  to-morrow,  the  girls  have  gone  to 
their  yard  to  put  their  clothes,  themselves  and  their  baskets 
in  order.  They  have  no  bureaus  or  nice  little  trunks  as  home 
girls  have.  Each  has  a  covered  basket  214  feet  long  and  2 
deep,  in  which  they  keep  books  or  anything  intended  only  for 
their  own  use.  The  white  ants  are  so  troublesome  that  we 
have  to  keep  not  only  these  but  boxes  and  baskets  in  which 
grain  is  stored,  upon  stones  or  bricks.  The  yard  is  about  100 
feet  long  by  80  wide.  It  has  a  frontage  of  its  entire  length  to 
the  east,  and  so  receives  the  full  benefit  of  the  sea  breeze,  as 
the  front  wall  is  latticed.  During  the  burning  heat  the  sea 
breeze  is  a  real  elixir,  and  it  was  solely  that  the  girls  might 
have  the  benefit  of  it  that  Mr.  Timpany  placed  their  quarters 
in  this  location,  thus  making  necessary  a  change  of  bungalows. 
There  are  nice  trees  in  the  yard,  and  when  the  rains  come  the 
girls  will  transplant  some  flowering  shrubs.  The  dormito¬ 
ries  and  cooking  arrangements  are  not  extensive.  One  rather 
old  house,  15  by  25,  having  mud  walls  and  a  thatched  roof,  but 
without  a  floor,  is  used  as  the  cooking  house  and  store  room 
for  baskets  and  cooking  utensils.  Some  of  the  girls  also  sleep¬ 
ing  there.  The  house  is  all  one  room. 

“A  little  way  from  this,  is  the  new  dormitory,  divided  into 
two  rooms.  One,  10  by  20,  is  used  wholly  as  a  sleeping  room. 
Here,  on  mats,  lie  33  girls.  They  are  so  close  together  on  the 
floor,  that  I  can  hardly  step  between  them.  The  other  division 
is  a  bath-room.  Since  the  change  of  bungalows,  the  school 
room  is  one  of  the  rooms  in  our  house.  There  is  plenty  of 
room  in  this  part  of  the  house  (which  was  formerly  occupied 
by  the  missionary  and  his  family)  for  a  single  missionary  and 
the  school,  but  you  see  how  much  the  girls  need  another 
dormitory  in  their  yard. 


l7 


“  This  month  all  our  preachers  and  school  teachers  are  in 
from  the  villages.  We  spend  much  time  with  them,  hearing 
their  reports,  settling  difficulties,  &c.  Ezra,  our  head  teacher, 
speaks  English  and  acts  as  interpreter.  The  tract  of  country 
over  which  the  work  of  the  Ramapatam  mission  extends, 
runs  west  of  us  80  miles,  aud  is  30  or  40  miles  from  north  to 
south.  In  the  whole  area  there  are  600  villages,  small  and 
large,  and  in  So  of  them  we  count  800  Christians. 

“The  teachers  come  in  every  month  to  make  reports,  receive 
support,  and  obtain  advice,  medicine,  etc.;  with  these  come 
some  of  the  head  Christians,  any  candidates  for  Baptism,  and 
any  who  have  difficulties  to  settle.  The  majority  of  our 
Christians  we  cannot  see  except  as  we  make  trips  through  the 
villages.  Some  of  the  reports  are  exceedingly  interesting. 

“There  are  eight  women  this  month  who  give  account  of 
their  wrnrk  as  teachers.  Some  have  been  very  successful  in 
gathering  children  and  in  inducing  people  to  give  these 
teachers  their  food. 

“This  is  a  great  festival  day  and  the  car  of  Juggernaut  pa¬ 
rades  Ramapatam.  Two  days  ago,  6  or  8  teachers  and  scholars, 
and  preachers,  came  asking  to  go  into  the  Bazaar  and  among 
the  people  and  preach  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation.  It  would 
have  rejoiced  your  heart  to  have  seen,  last  evening,  a  crowd 
of  people  in  the  village  near  the  heathen  temple,  Krishnaloo, 
with  some  of  the  older  girls  talking  to  one  group.  Ramiah, 
the  head  preacher  to  another,  a  band  of  Christians  from  one 
of  the  villages  to  another,  all  with  Dr.  Jewett’s  translation  of 
Matthew  in  their  hands,  and  as  they  talked,  they  turned  over 
leaves  and  read  passages  of  Scripture.  Such  are  some  of  the 
means  by  which  we  hope  heathen  India  may  be  brought  to 

2 


i8 


turn  from  her  idols,  and  her  shamelessly  corrupt  festivals,  and 
come  to  know  and  love  the  pure  and  holy  God.” 

Mr.  Timpany  having  left  in  March,  1 876,  and  Miss  Peabody 
being  in  Madras,  Miss  Wood  and  Mr.  Newhall,  were  left  to 
bear  the  burden  of  this  work  during  the  heat  of  the  summer. 
As  she  writes  to  a  friend:  “Mr.  Newhall,  with  only  four 
months’  experience,  and  myself,  with  only  a  year  and  four 
months,  and  knowing  little  of  the  language.  Thus  we  are 
struggling  on,  praying  for  health,  trusting  in  the  Lord  for 
strength,  and  looking  to  Him  for  grace  and  wisdom  to  bear 
the  burden,  and  to  act  discreetly  amid  all  our  embarrassments.” 

To  another  she  writes:  “I  am  in  a  place  where  I  have 
now  a  superabundance  of  work.  I  am  exceedingly  pressed, 
and  hot  as  the  weather  is,  I  cannot  find  a  minute  during  the 
day  in  which  to  rest.  I  am  school  teacher,  doctor  for  the 
girls,  house-keeper,  and  so  on.  Besides,  I  have  not  the  lan¬ 
guage.  I  must  prepare  with  Moonshi  (teacher)  every  thing  I 
teach.  I  have  no  time  for  study.  All  that  I  must  suspend 
till  Miss  Peabody  returns.”  The  arrangement  for  her  to  take 
Miss  Peabody’s  place  temporarily  was  made  just  after  the 
way  opened  for  her  to  go  eventually  to  Ongole.  But  her  en¬ 
gagement  soon  afterward  to  Mr.  Newhall,  who  was  about  to 
take  charge  of  the  work  at  Ramapatam,  caused  her  to  be¬ 
come  permanently  identified  with  the  work  at  that  station. 

The  marriage  was  planned  for  July.  Miss  Peabody  was 
still  detained  in  Madras,  with  no  prospect  of  being  able  to  re¬ 
turn  until  September.  Early  in  June,  Miss  Wood  was  de¬ 
prived  of  her  only  remaining  female  friend  and  associate  at 
Ramapatam.  Mrs.  Williams,  whom  she  regarded  with  ever 
growing  sisterly  affection,  and  to  whom  she  was  turning  for 


l9 


needed  counsel  and  sympathy,  was  suddenly  and  very  unex¬ 
pectedly  called  to  her  heavenly  home,  while  at  Madras  for 
medical  aid.  Under  the  peculiar  circumstances  it  was  not 
deemed  best  to  defer  the  marriage  beyond  the  appointed  time, 
although  the  joyousness  of  the  occasion  would  be  tempered 
by  the  consciousness  of  personal  loss,  and  a  vivid  sense  of  the 
uncertainty  of  earthly  happiness,  and  a  heart-felt  sympathy 
with  the  bereaved  husband.  She  was  thus  left  alone  with 
her  cares  and  her  preparations.  She  writes  home:  “I  can 
hardly  do  my  missionary  work  and  make  necessary  prepara¬ 
tions  for  my  marriage,  while  I  am  the  only  white  woman  here. 
As  we  wish  to  invite  the  other  missionaries  and  the  Ramapa- 
tam  Christians  it  will  need  a  little  time  to  prepare.”  The 
marriage  took  place  on  the  19th  of  July.  On  the  25th,  she 
writes  to  her  parents:  “Not  one  minute  since  my  last  letter, 
has  been  available  for  letter-writing.  I  have  worked  during 
the  last  six  months  to  the  utmost  verge  of  my  ability.”  Con¬ 
sider  the  climate,  the  terrible  heat,  the  vast  amount  of  labor, 
taxing  her  mentally  and  physically,  and  you  can  appreciate  the 
record  that  follows:  “Though  both  of  our  schools  had  a  va¬ 
cation  just  before  our  marriage  (which  had  taken  place  on  the 
19th  of  July)  a  missionary  never  has  an  uninterrupted  hour. 
From  12  to  2,  at  midday,  and  from  9  at  night  till  sunrise,  is 
all  the  time  we  are  sure  of.  Every  thing  needing  to  be  said  in 
Telugu,  it  takes  us  some  time  to  thoroughly  understand.  We 
have  to  listen  to  all  complaints  and  as  far  as  possible  settle 
matters.  A11  Oriental  thinks  so  much  of  your  hearing  what 
he  has  to  say.  Time  is  nothing  to  him,  and  he  prefaces  all  his 
requests  with  a  long  explanatory  story  including  his  family 
history.” 


20 


Then  M  iss  Wood  tells  us  of  her  simple  appropriate  prepa¬ 
rations  for  her  wedding,  of  the  white  muslin  dress  and  its 
trimming  of  lace,  of  the  tasteful  aspect  she  was  trying  to  give 
her  house,  which  was  not  quite  finished,  and  adds,  “  if  my 
rooms  have  not  as  much  in  them  as  some,  our  dining-room, 
study  and  bed-room,  at  least,  have  a  home-like  air.”  The 
account  of  the  wedding,  has  its  own  interest.  To  it  came 
some  of  the  other  missionaries,  “the  native  preachers,  ten  in 
number,  their  wives  and  families,  the  school  teachers,  Bible 
women  and  many  Christians  from  the  villages.  These  came 
on  the  8th,  thinking  we  would  be  married  on  the  12th.  So 
they  were  here  a  long  time,  and  this  added  much  to  my  care; 
they  all  needed  so  much  attention.  But  I  am  learning  to  love 
these  people,  and  I  do  desire  to  aid  them  in  every  possible 
\#ay.”  She  was  married  in  the  Ramapatam  Mission  Chapel, 
at  5  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  of  July  19,  1876.  The  ceremony 
was  performed  by  Mr.  Clough.  Mr.  Williams,  Mr.  Drake 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Loughridge  being  present.  The  chapel 
was  crowded  full  and  many  were  outside.  The  service,  a 
modification  of  the  English  Episcopal  service,  was  translated 
passage  by  passage  into  Telugu,  by  Ezra,  our  head  teacher, 
and  a  Telugu  hymn  was  sung  at  the  close.  All  the  people 
were  in  their  best  attire,  and  most  of  them  were  neat  and 
clean.”  F or  obvious  reasons,  some  conformity  to  the  customs 
of  the  country  seemed  expedient,  such  as  for  the  bride  and 
groom  to  give  instead  of  receive  presents  and  to  entertain  the 
guests  with  appropriate  amusements.  A  wedding  cake  anti 
jellies,  procured  from  Madras,  and  another  cake  contributed 
by  “Julia”  from  Nellore,  and  fruit  from  their  own  garden  at 
Ramapatam,  graced  the  wedding  dinner.  “About  250  native 


21 


Christians  including  the  two  station  schools,  and  Mr.  Wil¬ 
liam’s  seminary  students,  honored  us  with  their  presence  at  an 
entertainment  specially  provided  for  them,  towards  evening.” 
The  next  day  all  the  missionaries  spent  the  day  with  us.  In 
the  evening,  Mr.  Clough  left;  on  the  following  evening,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Loughridge;  on  the  next  Tuesday  morning  all  the 
teachers  and  preachers.  The  next  evening  Mr.  Drake  started 
for  his  new  field  of  labor,  Kurnool,  and  the  Compound  is  now 
in  its  normal  condition.  When  I  turned  to  my  desk  to  regulate 
it,  I  found  26  unanswered  letters.”  Her  marriage  seems  to 
have  been  all  her  friends  could  have  desired  for  her.  She 
writes  to  a  dear  friend :  “My  fondest  dreams  of  love  and  ten¬ 
derness  have  been  more  than  realized ;”  and  again,  “whatever 
our  trials  and  vexations,  discouragements  and  privations,  we 
always  have  each  other’s  loving  counsel  and  sympathy.” 

This  comfort  of  counsel  and  sympathy  and  loving  com¬ 
panionship,  came  none  too  soon.  The  marriage  festivities 
were  scarcely  over  and  earnest  work  resumed,  before  words 
like  these  came  over  the  seas,  in  response  to  assurances  of 
prayerful  remembrance  of  friends. 

■v 

“Such  messages  as  yours  are  welcome  visitors,  always;  but  just  now 
it  is  comforting  to  be  assured  that  the  home  friends  are  petitioning  the 
Throne  of  Grace  on  our  behalf,  for  we  are  in  the  midst  of  troublous 
times — times  which  try  men’s  souls.  The  rain-fall  of  1875  was  deficient, 
and  except  a  few  scanty  showers  in  July  and  August,  we  have  had  no 
rain  since  last  December.  For  three  months,  grain  of  all  kinds  has  been 
rising,  until  paddy  (unhulled  rice),  is  all  that  we  are  now  able  to  buy. 
Two  days  ago  Ramapatam  grain  merchants  refused  to  sell  to  any  one  at 
any  price.  Through  the  influence  of  some  native  officials  we  have  suc¬ 
ceeded  in  bringing  a  bandy  load  of  paddy  from  another  village.  This 
supply  exhausted,  we  were  obliged  to  apply  to  the  Tahsildar  before  we 


22 


could  obtain  more.  We  have  over  two  hundred  people  in  these  two 
Compounds  and  we  cannot  see  them  suffer. 

“  But  our  poor  Christians  scattered  throughout  the  field;  their  distress 
is  heart-rending  and  we  have'  no  money  with  which  to  help  them.  Daily 
they  are  coming  and  going,  telling  of  their  suffering.  They  have  no 
work,  the  tanks  and  wells  are  dried  up  till  the  water  is  so  impregnated 
with  lime  or  saltpetre  as  to  render  it  unfit  to  drink,  yet  they  have  no  al¬ 
ternative  and  must  use  it.  Some  obtain  a  meal  once  in  three  days; 
others,  less  fortunate,  go  wandering  about,  living  on  roots  and  the 
prickly  pear.  From  all  sections  come  the  same  report;  gloom  and 
distress  prevail  around  us.  In  the  large  towns  of  the  Presidency 
grain  riots  have  occurred  and  bands  of  robbers  are  prowling 
everywhere.  Indeed,  the  poor  people  depend  on  stealing  to  keep 
from  starving.  Sending  to  jail  is  no  punishment  for  these  poor 
creatures,  they  hope  to  go  there.  We  hear  of  their  saying,  ‘  We’ll  steal 
enough  to  be  taken  up,  and  then  we’ll  be  kept  in  jail  till  the  famine  is 
over.’  The  extreme  distress  prevailing  among  the  poorer  classes  can  be 
realized  from  the  fact  that  mothers  offer  their  children  for  sale. 

“  The  grass  is  gone,  the  ground  is  baked  here  to  the  depth  of  six  feet. 
Indeed  the  dwellers  in  the  temperate  zones  can  hardly  imagine  the 
power  of  the  heat  of  torrid  India.  Three  weeks  ago  one  of  our  Com¬ 
pound  people  died.  In  digging  her  grave  the  men  were  compelled  first 
to  thoroughly  drench  the  ground  with  water,  then  remove  a  few  inches 
of  earth,  again  pour  on  water  and  again  dig  a  little;  and  so  on,  until  the 
grave  was  sufficiently  deep  Wherever  you  go  the  cattle  are  a  sorry 
sight.  Cows  are  often  seen  in  some  sections  labelled:  ‘  This  may  be¬ 
long  to  whoever  will  feed  her/  To  our  own  cows  we  give  grain  and 
leaves  from  our  Compound  trees.  The  Monsoon  which  should  have 
come  the  early  part  of  October,  shows  no  sign  of  appearing — the  sun 
rides  through  the  heaven  with  mocking  brightness.  Should  God  an¬ 
swer  our  prayers  and  send  us  rain  during  this  month,  many  of  the  coarser 
grains  could  be  raised,  but  not  the  white  rice.  To  all,  the  price  of  living 
is  much  higher,  and  even  at  the  best,  must  continue  so  for  months. 

“  Our  school  boys  and  girls,  our  teachers  and  preachers,  have  to  re¬ 
ceive  more  pay,  and  the  present  appearances  are  that  the  appropriation 


23 


will  be  exhausted  by  the  time  the  year  is  three-fourths  gone.  What  shall 
we  do?  Dismiss  our  teachers  and  preachers  and  send  the  school  child¬ 
ren  back  to  their  villages  to  starve?  Last  week  we  had  three  strong, 
intelligent  men  come  in  for  baptism.  Five  months  ago  a  little  school 
was  started  in  their  village,  by  the  wife  of  the  preacher,  and  from  total 
ignorance  they  have  learned  to  read  a  little.  One,  the  brightest,  had  ob¬ 
tained  from  some  one  a  copy  of  Luke,  and  his  correct  answers  at 
the  time  of  his  examination  were  a  delight  to  us  all.  Such  is  one  of  the 
good  effects  of  village  schools.  Had  we  the  means  we  would  establish  a 
school  in  every  village  where  there  are  Christians.  On  Sunday  eleven 
presented  themselves  to  the  church  as  candidates  for  baptism,  but  only 
five  were  received.  We  usually  baptize  in  our  Compound  tank,  but  as 
the  water  had  dried  up  we  assembled  at  5  o’clock  near  the  sea,  by  the 
breakwater.  It  was  a  pleasant  sight;  many  of  the  village  people  gath¬ 
ered  to  witness  it.  They  stood  on  one  side,  our  Christians  on  the  other. 
We  sat  on  a  bench  between,  just  in  front  of  the  spot  where  the  ordinance 
was  administered.  Bro.  Williams  talked  to  the  people,  especially  to  the 
heathen,  on  the  meaning  of  baptism,  why  we  Christians  baptize. 
Meantime  the  candidates,  close  by  the  water,  were  having  their  jootoos 
(sacred  crests  of  hair)  cut  off. 

After  reading  a  few  verses,  singing  and  prayer,  the  candidates  were 
led  down  into  the  water,  and  we  believe  they  came  up  out  of  it  conse¬ 
crated  to  a  new  and  better  life  in  Jesus.  The  roaring  of  the  beating 
surf  was  all  the  while  sounding  in  our  ears,  and  the  shadows  were  falling 
ere  we  left  the  spot.  The  next  morning  the  men  returned  to  their  vil¬ 
lages,  forty  miles  distant.  I  gave  them  each  a  copy  of  John’s  gospel, 
promising  if  they  would  learn  to  read  it  all  I  would  give  them  another 
book  when  I  came  to  their  village.  We  are  hoping  to  go  out  in  De¬ 
cember,  but  if  the  rain  is  withheld  we  cannot — no  food,  and  the  glare  of 
the  sun  is  so  trying,  it  would  not  be  prudent  to  live  in  tents.  Mr.  New- 
hall  is  exceedingly  anxious  to  go  out  through  the  villages  and  see  the 
Christians.  It  is  a  great  trial  to  him  that  he  cannot  yet  from  his  own 
lips  preach  Jesus  to  the  people;  but  the  past  ten  months  have  been  filled 
with  hard  work  and  perplexity,  leaving  little  time  to  study.  He  hopes 
now  to  be  able  regularly  each  day  to  read  and  talk  with  the  heathen  . 


24 


The  knowledge  of  Telugu  which  I  obtained  during  my  first  year  in 
India,  imperfect  as  it  is,  has  been  invaluable  to  us,  for  we  are  surrounded 
by  Telugus  who  speak  no  English.” 

The  famine,  with  its  scenes  of  suffering,  terrible  beyond 
description,  which  she  was  obliged  to  witness,  and  was  pow¬ 
erless  to  relieve,  added  greatly  to  her  cares  and  duties,  and 
taxed  her  sensibilities  and  sympathies  to  the  utmost.  The 
missionaries  themselves  suffered,  not  from  lack  in  quantity , 
but  a  lack  in  variety — there  being  no  fruit  or  vegetables  to  be 
had  in  the  summer  months  during  the  famine.  Mrs.  New- 
hall  writes  from  Bangalore, June  7,  1877:  “How  I  wish  I 
could  be  with  you  and  enjoy  some  of  the  strawberries  and 
peas,  home  fruits  and  food  which  I  crave.  We  get  better 
food  here  than  we  have  had  for  some  time,  and  it  is  doing  me 
good,  for  I  was  growing  weak  and  suffering  in  many  ways  for 
the  want  of  nourishing  food,  which  I  could  relish.” 

But  her  heroism  and  Christian  courage  did  not  fail.  She 
says  in  a  letter  home,  “  I  sometimes  long  to  be  put  down  in 
America  just  for  a  day  or  week,  where  no  crouching  skele¬ 
ton,  begging  for  food,  no  wailing,  bony  infant  whose  mother 
for  lack  of  food,  cannot  give  it  one  drop  of  milk,  no  human 
bodies,  whose  only  covering  is  tangled  hair  and  dirt,  no 
throwing  dead  bodies  to  dogs  and  jackals,  no  dead  vegetation 
and  dying  cattle,  would  meet  my  eyes.  I  have  courage  how¬ 
ever.  For  Christ’s  sake  I  can  bear  even  this.”  Still  later 
she  wrote:  “  If  I  could  walk  into  your  cozy  home,  away  from 
all  sights  and  sounds  which  bring  famine  and  starvation  and 
nakedness  hourly  to  my  notice,  how  I  would  enjoy  a  pleasant 
chat.  Yet,  with  all  my  privations,  if  I  were  directed  to  do  so 
I  could  not  leave  these  'poor  people.  It  is  little  we  can  do  for 


25 


them,  but  that  little  keeps  some  of  them  from  starvation  and 
death.”  This  determination  never  to  leave  her  post  of  duty 
was  well  illustrated  during  one  of  her  illnesses  in  India, 
when  the  physician  told  her  that  her  only  hope  of  recovery 
was  to  return  to  America,  u  I  cannot  go  home,”  she  said. 
“The  Lord  Jesus  sent  me  here  to  work  for  Him,  and  I  have 
not  accomplished  it.”  She  had  not  yet  come  to  realize  that 
God  knows  when  our  work  is  done,  and  how,  as  old  F uller 
so  quaintly  says,  “When  God  sees  this,  He  blows  out  the  can¬ 
dle  and  sends  His  servant  to  bed.” 

These  trying  exigencies  and  privations  were  bringing  this 
devoted  woman  early  to  the  evening  tide  of  her  life,  and  our 
God  does  not  “  exact  day  labor,  light  denied.” 

All  that  she  had  done,  and  all  that  she  had  endured,  from 
which  not  even  the  tenderest,  most  watchful  care  could  shield 
her,  began  to  tell  upon  her  health.  The  disease  of  the  coun¬ 
try,  which  is  especially  fatal  to  Europeans  in  the  climate  of 
Southern  India,  and  of  which  she  had  previously  had  more 
than  one  attack  since  her  arrival,  began  to  rob  her  of  the 
strength  she  needed  to  carry  her  through  her  approaching 
confinement.  Mr.  Newhall  took  her  to  Nellore  for  medical 
treatment,  where  she  had  the  attendance  of  a  skillful  physi¬ 
cian  and  an  experienced  nurse,  whose  friendly  interest  in  their 
patient  gave  increased  value  to  their  professional  services. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Downie  were  most  kind  in  their  attentions,  as 
were  also  the  English  Collector  and  his  wife,  and  other  sym¬ 
pathizing  friends. 

Mrs.  Loughridge,  to  whom  she  had  become  warmly  at¬ 
tached,  came  down  from  Ongole  as  soon  as  she  heard  of  her 
danger  and  rendered  valuable  assistance.  Fourteen  days  of 


26 


comparative  convalescence  gave  occasion  of  happy  anticipa¬ 
tion  of  entire  recovery,  at  times,  and  at  other  times  she  sank 
so  low  that  those  who  watched  her  thought  her  dying.  Thus 
fluctuating  between  life  and  death,  visibly  growing  weaker 
after  each  change,  the  days  passed  slowly  by.  Her  weakness 
and  the  influence  of  her  medicines  prevented  her  from  giving 
much  attention  to  those  around  her,  even  to  her  sorrowing 
husband.  For  that  reason  her  friends  are  deprived  of  much 
of  the  consolation  which  affectionate  farewell  words  often 
bring  to  those  who  stand  by  the  Christian’s  death-bed. 

Mr.  Newhall  writes:  “When  I  told  her  that  I  feared  she 
might  not  recover,  and  asked  if  she  had  any  messages  to  send 
to  her  friends,  she  called  my  attention  to  a  list  of  correspond¬ 
ents,  all  of  whom  she  wished  to  be  notified,  and  added  that 
of  course  I  would  write  all  the  particulars  to  her  parents,  and 
that  I  must  say  to  her  brothers  that  she  hoped  she  should 
meet  them  in  heaven.  She  then  made  a  short  prayer,  the 
burden  of  which  was  for  God  to  spare  her  life  if  possible,  but 
if  not,  that  He  would  forgive  her  sins  and  prepare  her  to  die. 
A  few  mornings  before  she  died,  I  asked  her  if  she  knew  me. 
‘Of  course  I  do.’  Are  you  trusting  in  Jesus;  is  He  present 
with  you  in  your  weakness  and  suffering?  ‘Yes.’  Soon  af¬ 
terward  she  asked  me  to  pray  earnestly  that  she  might  be  pre¬ 
pared.  ‘  Yes,  I  have  been  praying,  and  you  must  trust  all  in 
the  hands  of  Christ,  do  you  not?’  ‘Yes;  in  the  Cross  of 
Christ  I  glory’ — but  her  strength  failed  her.  After  lying 
quietly  half  an  hour,  she  called  me  affectionately  to  her,  and 
said:  ‘I  have  been  praying  very  earnestly  that  Jesus  will  for¬ 
give  my  sins  and  make  me  willing  to  die,  and  I  think  He  will 
hear  my  prayer.  I  begin  to  feel  His  peace  entering  into  my 


27 


soul.’  Then  she  made  some  suggestions  about  her  burial, 
and  with  a  smile  told  me  to  go  and  take  some  rest. 

Toward  the  last,  some  roses  were  brought  in  by  a  friend. 
She  smelled  them  eagerly  and  said,  ‘  Beautiful,  beautiful.’ 

But  all  in  vain  were  the  efforts  and  cares  of  physician,  the 
detaining  hands  of  tenderest  affection,  and  all  the  force  of  her 
own  determination  to  recover,  which  was  never  surpassed  by 
a  feeble  woman.  About  dark,  Tuesday  eve,  October  9th,  she 
became  insensible,  and  at  10  p.  m.  breathed  out  her  sweet  life 
in  the  presence  of  the  kind  nurse,  Mrs.  Loughridge,  our  Te- 
lugu  sister  Julia,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Downie,  who  tendered 
their  cordial  sympathy  to  the  bereaved  husband. 

Loving  hands  robed  her  for  her  burial,  and  placed  her  in  a 
neat  and  substantial  coffin.  The  next  day,  after  a  brief 
funeral  sermon  by  Rev.  D.  Downie,  her  earthly  remains  were 
borne  to  the  Nellore  Cemetery  and  laid  in  a  grave  lined  with 
masonry,  under  the  shadow  of  a  Margosa  tree.  Her  husband 
has  since  erected  upon  the  grave  a  low  monument  of  polished 
black  granite,  bearing  the  following  inscription: 

SACRED  TO  THE  MEMORY 

OF 

MARY  A.  WOOD, 

Wife  of 

Rev.  A.  A.  Newhall, 

M-issionary  at  Ramapatam. 

Died  at  Nellore,  October  9,  1877. 

Aged  32  Yrs.  2  Mos. 

“  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  thee,  be 

cause  he  trnsteth  in  thee.” 


28 


And  so  it  ended!  Nay,  not  so.  There  is  a  place  where 

“  Human  power  and  failure 
Are  equalized  forever, 

And  the  light  that  haloes  all 
Is  the  passionate  bright  endeavor.” 

Does  not  God  mark  the  preparation  of  a  soil,  and  the  seed 
sowing,  with  the  same  approval  which  awaits  those  who 
gather  in  the  harvest?  We  know  that  he  does ,  and  that  in 
His  sight  the  “  passionate  bright  endeavor  ”  is  haloed  in  the 
glory  of  His  smile. 

In  a  letter  from  Mr.  Newhall  we  find  a  very  felicitous  char¬ 
acterization  of  his  wife.  He  says,  “  In  addition  to  her  per¬ 
sonal  attractions  there  was  a  queenliness  and  dignity  of  manner 
which  never  ceased  to  fill  me  with  profound  respect,  even 
when  she  was  engaged  in  common  household  duties.  Or¬ 
derly  and  straightforward  in  everything,  she  was  excessively 
ambitious  to  do  as  much  as  possible,  never  favoring  herself 
till  she  was  completely  exhausted.  All  my  ingenuity  and 
persuasions  could  not  prevent  her  working  too  hard.  Her 
work,  moreover,  was  always  thorough.  She  made  good 
progress  in  the  Telugu  language,  was  able  to  speak  it  idio¬ 
matically,  and  made  herself  well  understood  in  ordinary  con¬ 
versation  or  teaching.  She  was  a  good  housekeeper,  for  she 
could  do  nothing  poorly;  but  she  was  rather  inclined  to  the 
intellectual  pursuits,  for  which  her  superior  education  so  well 
fitted  her.  She  had  poetical  tastes  and  fancies,  and  after  her 
death  I  found  several  poems  written  by  her  when  only  a 
school  girl.  She  was  especially  fond  of  Intellectual  Philoso¬ 
phy — indeed  her  mental  powers  were  of  a  superior  order. 
Never  did  I  find  any  theme  distasteful  to  her,  or  any  argu- 


29 


ment  too  deep  for  her  to  bravely  grapple  with.  In  practical 
matters  I  often  found  it  greatly  to  my  advantage  to  be  guided 
by  her  judgment  in  preference  to  my  own.  I  have  re-writ¬ 
ten  many  important  letters  after  her  criticisms.  Unlike  my¬ 
self,  she  thought  a  matter  out  thoroughly  beforehandj  and 
seldom  had  occasion  to  revise  or  alter  what  she  had  once 
written.” 

Dedications  of  books,  occasionally  some  conjugal  verses,  or 
tender  threnodies,  have  done  justice  to  those  wives,  to  whom 
men  have  looked,  and  not  in  vain,  for  inspiration  or  courage. 
Mr.  Newhall’s  testimony,  most  direct  and  unequivocal  as  it  is, 
is  not  singular,  especially  in  missionary  annals.  Where  else 
have  we  nobler  instances  of  women  who  did  and  dared,  or 
of  men  who  do  and  dare,  in  the  vigor  of  impulse,  which 
comes  as  from  Divine  inspiration  in  the  trusting  and  fearless 
force  of  will,  in  the  unfettered  independence  of  heart  and 
soul,  taking  direct  hold  on  direct  facts.  Monod  may  well 
claim  for  woman  the  highest  place  in  grand  Christian,  phil¬ 
anthropic  and  mission  enterprises.  Mrs.  Newhall’s  devotion 
to  her  work  was  finely  called  a  “  Costly  Sacrifice.” 

Mr.  Newhall  remarks,  “A  costly,  but  let  us  not  say  too 
costly  a  sacrifice.  I  am  sure  she  never  felt  while  living  that 
any  talent  is  too  precious  to  be  laid  upon  the  altar  of  mis¬ 
sions,  if  the  Master  calls  for  it.  Least  of  all  did  she  dream 
that  in  offering  her  own  modestly-esteerhed  self  she  was  do¬ 
ing  any  more  than  in  giving  the  Lord  His  own,  for  His  own 
best  use.” 

One  long  associated  with  her  as  teacher  says :  “  Does  any 
one  say  ‘  Why  all  this  waste?’  Let  them  listen  to  the  voice 
of  the  Saviour,  ‘She  hath  done  what  she  could.’  And  who 


3° 


can  measure  how  much  she  has  done.  ‘  We  live  in  deeds, 
not  years.’  How  many  seed  thoughts  of  truth  and  duty  may 
have  fallen  into  many  hearts,  how  impulses  for  good  have 
been  given  and  are  moving  onward,  we  may  not  know  in 
this  life.  The  harvest  will  finally  be  gathered.  The  good 
live  three  lives,  a  finished  life  on  earth,  a  life  of  influence 
still  going  on,  and  a  glorified  life  in  Heaven.”  There  is 
abundant  testimony  to  the  truth  of  these  beautiful  words  in 
letters  written  by  associate  teachers,  and  former  pupils.  One 
of  these  last  writes:  “  She  helped  to  form  my  character  at  a 
time  when  I  was  verging  from  youth  into  manhood.  She 
has  been  the  guardian  angel  of  my  spirit  since  a  youth  of  six¬ 
teen,  and  in  my  walk  through  life  I  shall  always  see  her  pure 
face  over  me  when  I  diverge  from  the  path  of  duty.  I  do 
not  think  a  person  meets  with  many  such  women  in  a  life¬ 
time.”  Many  other  loving  tributes  to  her  faithfulness,  deli¬ 
cate  tact,  and  conscientious  discharge  of  duty,  have  been 
written  to  the  husband  and  parents,  serving  at  once  to  deepen 
their  sense  of  loss,  and  to  afford  them  consolation  in  it. 

She  was  so  richly  furnished  and  appointed  for  a  lofty  career 
of  usefulness  in  her  own  land;  she  was  so  eminent  as  a  stu¬ 
dent;  she  brought  so  warm  an  interest  to  her  work  as  a 
teacher;  she  was  so  sympathetic,  so  magnetic,  so  earnest  and 
faithful,  that  with  her  thorough  preparation  and  her  power  to 
impart,  she  was  fitted  to  command  success,  and  take  the  high¬ 
est  position. 

Mentally  so  well  trained,  and  fitted  for  work — spiritually  so 
devoted  in  her  self-renunciation  and  power  to  sacrifice — it  does 
appear  inscrutable  to  us  that,  in  God’s  purpose,  her  mission¬ 
ary  labor  should  close  so  soon.  It  may  be  that  He  chose  and 


31 


ordained  the  costly  sacrifice ;  that  the  lesson  of  her  life  should 
sink  “deepest  in  the  best,”  and  in  deeply  furrowed  hearts 
should  bring  forth  an  hundred  fold. 

In  the  great  plan  of  Christian  civilization,  when  results  are 
comprehended,  perhaps  we  may  sometime  take  measure  of 
what  she  accomplished. 

The  triumph  of  our  faith  in  her  early  death  becomes  the 
triumph  of  our  faith  as  we  follow  her  work  to  fruition. 


